Of Packs, Covens, and Familes
by wolf-with-snake-eyes
Summary: The Sheriff lost his job, leaving him at a loss for what his next step would be. Then Stiles got into too much trouble with the surrounding supernatural. The Sheriff not taking kindly to the trouble his son got into. His only option was to move, so he took up a job in Forks, making Stiles leave his best friend, and pack behind. . . Will the pack ever truly leave him?
1. Preface

**Title: Of Packs, Covens, and Families**

**Summary: The Sheriff lost his job, leaving him at a loss for what his next step would be. Then Stiles got into too much trouble with the surrounding supernatural, which left the Sheriff in the know. His only option was to move, so he took up a job in La Push, as head Sheriff, making Stiles leave his best friend, and pack behind. . . Will the pack ever truly leave him?**

**Chapter: Preface**

**Rating: T-M**

**Disclaimer: I own neither Teen Wolf or Twilight**

**Spoilers: Twilight Preface, Teen Wolf Season 1 & 2**

**Preface:**

_**Of Packs, Covens, Families, and Dying Days**_

I gave a lot of thought to exactly how my death would play out. And this was one of the many, many terrible, terrorizing ideas that had made its way into my brain.

I stared into the eyes of the predator approaching me, and forced myself to not flinch.

The pain was excruciating, and my blood was pumping.

One of the ways I had thought I would pass was at the end of my own father's gun, as he pointed it at me because I was turned into a creature like the one preying on me now.

Another way I had pictured my death was at crazy Uncle Peter's hand. He would have stocked me, waiting till I was alone. Then when I wasn't looking he would strike me down for my part in his second burning death.

Then there was the fear that Scott would lose control one full moon and finally get to his neck, ripping it to shreds with his claws.

There was always the looming threat of Derek, and his promises of pain.

Jackson the Kanima.

Lydia.

Allison.

Erica, Isaac, and Boyd.

Unknown foes with the keen ability to find him—always him.

All the supernatural beings surrounding him, threatening him, and almost killing him.

There was many ways he could die, many options open that came with the knowledge of a world that should be only myth and legend. And this—_this _was one he had imagined.

The figure crouched and white . . .


	2. Lydia's Evil-Thank the Moon I Saved

**Title: Of Packs, Covens, and Families**

**Summary: The Sheriff lost his job, leaving him at a loss for what his next step would be. Then Stiles got into too much trouble with the surrounding supernatural, scaring the Sheriff with how much trouble Stiles got himself into and lied about. His only option was to move, so he took up a job in Forks, making Stiles leave his best friend, and pack behind. . . Will the pack ever truly leave him?**

**Chapter: One**

**Rating: T-M**

**Disclaimer: I own neither Teen Wolf or Twilight**

**Lydia's Evil-Thank the Moon I Saved My Batman Boxers**

"We're moving Stiles."

I looked at my dad, a jolt rocking through my system. "Dad!" I moved to get out of the hospital bed.

"No," the sheriff pointed a finger at me, "Stay there and listen."

"Da-"

"No Stiles sit there and listen to me." His face was hard and his eyes were blown with rage, worry, and finality. I closed my mouth. "We are moving. You are lying in a hospital bed; you were attacked by a crazy old man, which you lied to me about," he got up and flailed his arms. "Then, _Stiles, _you ran off, you snuck out and got involved in who knows what. Then I find you on the porch passed out. I had to call an ambulance to get you to the hospital. You were bleeding out, your insides were bleeding, and your kidney was bruised, and you have broken ribs, one of which almost punctured your lungs. You have been lying to me. You have been sneaking out. You were hanging out with a suspected murderer, and _something _is wrong with Scott and you're in on that too."

The sheriff fell in to his seat and rubbed at his eyes, "I don't know what to do with you anymore Stiles, I-I just don't know." He looked up, "So I made a call yesterday. I was accepted at a smaller station in Forks, Washington."

"Dad?" I tried to comprehend, tried to wrap my mind around it. "Dad, I'm sorry," my voice cracked.

"I know," he whispered back at me, "I know."

Days passed slowly for me, alone in the hospital as Scott was off handling an Alpha situation? It was a surprise when instead of one of the pack visiting me, or even Lydia or Allison, it was Deaton.

"Hello Stiles," he smiled at me.

"What . . . are you doing," I looked around as if it would give me an answer, "Here?"

"Eloquent as ever Mr. Stilinski," Deaton offered as he moved to the chair at the side of my bed.

"A question has been asked," I was drained and had no patience, "An answer would be nice."

"I came to speak with you," Deaton finally offered, "Scott told me about your moving." I raised an eyebrow. "I wanted to give you something."

I finally noticed that he had stuff in his hands. "I like stuff, is it something naughty that will keep me entertained while I am stuck in the hospital bed."

"You could say that," Deaton smirked.

"I didn't actually think," I trailed off.

"Here Mr. Stilinski," he handed over a dusty old leather shoulder bag.

I took it gingerly; half scared to actually see what was in it, but did it anyway. I hefted out several leather tomes and a silver make-up case? "Uh, Dr. Deaton I really don't, I mean I know some drag queens, but it isn't my thing." He smiles patronizingly at me, so I looked down. Cracking it open, I glanced inside, and then opened it further, "Herbs, why do I need herbs?"

"Those are dried herbs, ash, and plants that have supernatural purposes in protecting you, enhancing power, and harming supernatural creatures. The books tell you about how to command and use all the supplies there, and the rest in the pack I made for you. The books also cover other supernatural creatures and the supernatural world." I looked down at the books, flipping one open and thumbing through it. "You have been thrust into this new world, and there is no going back from that. Anywhere you go, you will find that you will not escape that fact. To top it off, you are a member of a werewolf pack and that is also something that will follow you; something that is connected to your soul."

It went quiet and I waited for a minute before looking up into an empty room. I sat back and put everything away before turning over and looking at the opposite wall. I don't know how long I stayed like that clutching that shoulder pack to my chest.

I went home after that, a home that I was going to have to leave soon. It wasn't the same home we had lived in with my mother. My Dad couldn't stand to be in that house any longer then necessary after _her_ death, so he had rented this house. He couldn't sell my mother's house, it was, after all, willed to me after her death, and had been in the family for ten generations. It wasn't too far from the Hale Manor, and we had just as much land to our name as the Hale pack had. Something I had only ever told Scott.

I had found out only a little while after my dad had told me that we were moving to Washington because my mother had roots there as well. So we had a house to live in, he had told me that it was in the family for more generations then the one in Beacon Hills, probably as long as the family had been in America.

"Here," I looked up from my desk as my dad placed a large dusty tome in front of me. "You need to look through that, it is your mother's family history, old legends and what not according to her. I found it while going through her things, thought you would like to see it." He rubbed the back of his neck, "Your mother wrote some notes about her findings."

I looked up at him, "What do you mean findings?"

"I never told you what she did for a living did I?" he asked. I shook my head. "She was a Mythologist. She was into all sorts of paranormal stuff. I saw some of your books that you had strewn around your room and figured you were interested in it too. I think its in the blood, that's what she used to tell me. She liked to tell you all kinds of stories about unicorns and werewolves, sometimes about shifters and other things that were all myth and legend when you were a baby." Stiles could see his dad fumbling over the words. "So yeah, I thought it be nice for you to see where your mother started, apparently her family was dripping in the stuff."

I choked back a sob, not want to let my dad know exactly how affected I was by all of it. "Thanks Dad, I appreciate it." He was trying to placate, trying to make this move not as bad as it could be. He nodded and left my room as I looked down at the book.

I blew across the cover, coughing as the dust lifted, revealing the name TheotanAerning-Rynes embossed into the aged leather. I cracked it open to see just inside the cover. Written elegantly was _Broga sy swete, ic beon a araed, aefre waecer be spearca__, _a stained post-it was just underneath, I squinted to read the tiny scrawl:

_Translation – Danger is sweet, I am ever prepared, always watchful with spark. Family motto._

I flipped to the next page to see faded notes written on lined paper. I read a few sentences:

_Research is going steady. Found the reason for the drop of the name Aerning (meaning blood—more specifically—running riding racing flow of blood), Georgia (disowned-deceased) did not acquire all powers said to run in the lines, she was to take the bad blood with her, hence the name given, and the name taken. She showed no signs of the wolf, from either 'before', or being of Deborah Blacks line (see shifters). She was shunned._

Why the fuck was my mom's last name so long, I wonder exactly what language it came from. Before what? And shifters? I was so confused.

Closing the book and coughing as the dusk clung to the air, I headed for bed. I could look more at it later. I closed my eyes and began to drift.

"You're leaving," I was startled from my half dozed state and abruptly turned to see Derek obscured in the shadows of my poorly lit room.

"Derek buddy, the whole Snape routine with the shadows is getting old, and will someday give me an aneurism," I half yelled.

"You're leaving the pack." He surged forward eyes red.

"No, no my dad just decided that it was too dangerous for me here," I shrugged, "I can still do what you need me to, the research and everything. Deaton gave me the materials I would need, and I already have a copy of the Argents Bestiary, and all I need is a copy of the Hale Creature fest book of scariness."

"I will come find you if you go missing, you are my responsibility," Derek urged, then turned and jumped out my window, "You will stay in touch."

"He has issues," I said aloud, "Like Creepy Uncle Peter issues." I huffed and turned over again, groaning as I landed on my side wrong. I had a hard time trusting Derek, he hadn't really put out anything to instill faith in his leadership, but Scott had mysteriously fallen in line recently. Another thing that I wondered about was my place in the pack, because I see myself as the punching bag research coordinator. I fell into an uneasy sleep.

**o~0~o**

I wasn't given much time to pack my belongings, and ended up tossing most of my things with the exception of my supernatural memorabilia, my comics, my computer things, the few items that my mother had owned: her cookbook, her favorite dress (it still smelled like her), her perfume, and her family crest, and then the cloths that Lydia had brought over after burning all my other 'rags'.

"Lydia those are my cloths," I rushed around the trashcan in the middle of my yard, "I don't have anything to wear now." Which was true, I was running around in my batman boxers, which I had refused to take off.

"No those are rags," she said in a sickly sweet voice, "These are cloths," she pushed several bags into my hands, from different stores.

"But," I pleaded.

"Sorry Stiles but I won't associate with people who dress like you _used _to dress, and as I decided to like you and let you talk to me it was the wardrobe that had to go. After all you are the only one in our little group of misfit teens that has any inclination towards my genius. Your clothes were barely passable, baggy, and not fit for you new status." She was filing her nails, the fire illuminating her evil self, only amplifying her perfection.

"Why didn't you do this before, we could have totally made a go at a relationship?" I looked into the bags she had handed me, "There is no underwear in here."

"Oh please, going commando is hot and the new thing," Lydia began.

"And uncomfortable," I said pulling out the dark washed jeans that I could already tell were much tighter then I was comfortable with.

"_A_nd I am perfect for you in every way, except," she smirked up at me.

"Except," I asked.

"I am totally the wrong gender."

I sputtered, "What? How?"

"'Am I attractive to gay guys?' really Stiles," Lydia finished off her middle finger in a sweep.

"Danny," I cursed as she laughed.

"Now I am giving you the tools to effectively catch your perfect match, you better use them." She flourished her nail file at me and I flinched. Even if I wasn't so lazy and actually went to buy regular cloths again, I wouldn't now. I'm positive Lydia would know . . . and kill me. I'm so fucked. "Now you will send me your new measurements every semester or if you experience a growth spurt, and I will send you new cloths."

I gulped, and nodded.

She smiled at me and grabbed a bag from my hand, "Let's go try these on."

"Yes mam," I nodded, feeling like a puppy.

"Good boy," she patted my cheek, and as it turned out I really am a puppy.

We headed back into the house and up to my room, my dad only giving me a curious glance as he watched me go up the stairs after Lydia in only my underwear.

"No I will keep an eye on everyone for you, while you're gone," Lydia smirked, and I felt sorry for the pack. "They will not keep us in the dark again."

"You're going to take over the pack aren't you, it's either that or the world," I commented.

"Oh Stiles we would be perfect for one another, it's decided you shall be my gay boyfriend."

"Lovely," that wasn't as pleasant as it sounded. I should really reevaluate our forming relationship. Though I guess I should be ecstatic about any relationship forming between us. I opened the bag closest to me on the bed and pulled out a pair of low-rise pajama bottoms. "Is everything you bought me this tight and made to hang to low on my waist?"

"Yes," she tilted her head, picking up a pair of double lined boots out of a box.

I gaped at the boots then looked back at my closet, "Did you burn my shoes? My shoes Lydia!"

"Though not hideous they were falling apart, I got you some converse and vans as well," she said all that as if it made perfect sense.

I sputtered again and decided to just give in.

The pack slowly trickled in to see me off and wish me luck after that, but hadn't stayed as long as Lydia or Derek had stayed, even Scott opted out of visiting longer.

I packed the last of my room in the back of my Jeep that was on the trailer behind the moving van, and looked over to the front door where my dad was talking to Ms. McCall.

"All done Dad," I shouted out.

He looked over and nodded giving Scott's mom one last hug before heading over, "Your friends not gonna say goodbye?"

I looked down, a little disappointed, before looking back up with a smile, "Nah they already said their goodbyes. No need to make this any harder than it already is."

"Alright buddy," he grabbed my neck and steered me to the van, "Let's get going then."

We were about to exit Beacon Hills, for probably the last time in a very long time, when my phone went nuts. I looked down to see two texts, one from Lydia, and one from Allison. I opened Lydia's first.

**From: Lydia**

**Arhooooooooooo . . . This is stupid.**

Allison's was next,

**From: Allison**

**Ararhhooooo!**

That's when I heard it, the howling; many different howls sounded, most of anguish, some with hope, and all with love. I looked down at my phone and began texting.

**To: Derek, Scott, Lydia, Allison, Boyd, Erica, Isaac, Jackson.**

**I love you all to. Goodbye, I miss you all already. Keep me posted, and I am always available. Arhooooo.**

Surprisingly it was Derek who texted back.

**To: Stiles**

**Always pack. Always second.**

Always second? What did that mean? I shrugged and decided to let it go. Either he would tell me what it meant, or he wouldn't, as was the way of Derek.

I looked out at the trees and sighed, smiling again as I saw flashed of color following us to the Hale Pack Line. Goodbye Beacon Hills—Forks here I come.

**AN: So I scraped the original first chapter, and began anew. Sorta the same story line -better written I think-but tweaked and tugged into a snug fit so that maybe there wont be any major plot holes. **


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